


Scryx

by frustratedFreeboota



Category: Parahumans - Fandom, Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Camper Van, Casual, F/F, Murderhobos, Nyx - Freeform, S9, S9 classic, Serial Killers, Shipping, Shouty, Slaughterhouse 9, Superpowers, Supervillains, Team as Family, mutated, poisonous, screamer, worm - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-14 20:33:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14776790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frustratedFreeboota/pseuds/frustratedFreeboota
Summary: Screamer, Nyx, a long morning and a camper van. With thanks to XV and Dyranum of the Cauldron Discord for betaing services.





	1. Smoke.

The figure in front of Screamer looked wiry. An exceedingly thin woman, the bones in her cheeks visible through a tiny layer of skin. Red. A pale red. Passion, was the closest she had found, flicking through the paint chart in a department store one day. Her hair was short, spiked back. Her eyes were a little small, and a deep blue.

The figure smiled, but Screamer could tell it was just an illusion by the tilt of its head, the way its eyes still stared at the same spot. Her power's refusal to target it. A real set of ears belonged to another woman, standing in the kitchen space, shoveling at a burning pan of bacon. It hissed, and the smell of scorched meat wafted through the air.

The illusion's eyes blinked, but there was no recognition of Screamer's stirrings. It was less the way Nyx looked, and more the way she wanted to. Screamer could certainly see the resemblance between the projection, and the newspaper clippings that filled one half of the walls about Nyx's bed, the small bunk above the driver seat. 

One half for Nix. Her sister. The way she should look. The lucky one. Clippings from Protectorate interviews, and from magazines. Fashion magazines. Nyx knew what to look for, knew every curve of her twin's face. Nyx would let Nix keep that identity safe, for now.

The other half was for Nyx. The monster. The few pictures the papers printed, her mug shots from a brief stint in PRT custody. A few vanity ones that she'd had the others take, posing in scenes of carnage. The final few were the most detailed. They were all inhuman, depicting the same nude form against a plain white background. Nyx had wanted every angle of herself captured like a medical specimen, and Jack had been oddly eager to hold the camera. Nyx just wanted to be able to see herself, in full. It had helped to shape the first of her mimics, and then to move on.

The Nine had been going for a long time now. The two of them had been going for almost as long. 

A brief yawn escaped her lips. Too tired to raise her voice, Screamer whispered into her teammate’s ear, desperate to stay in her bed for at least a moment longer. It wasn’t comfortable, not in the least, but the way she’d splayed herself out was divine.

"Nyx dear, where is everyone?"

"Nearby town. Full of people."

She’d half expected a “not for long” to follow. They'd only gone and left her behind again. Jack usually didn't much care to start the action without everyone, so maybe it was just a shopping trip. Screamer hoped so.

The eyes on Nyx’ illusion were tired. A late night, or maybe she'd been thinking again. Or caught a whiff of something that brought back memories, fading before she could hold on to them.

"I told them you were sleeping." Nyx said, a room away. The illusion's mouth moved in time with her reply. It had taken practice before even a semblance of human motion seemed right. Now, the little cloud didn't have that awkward ventriloquist dummy look to it. It had made them a lot easier to interact with.

Screamer sat up, and took the illusion by the hand. This was the way each morning greeted her. As usual, she gave it a once over, examining the hands, feet, mouth. Well formed, barely a trace of leaking smoke.

The touches had to be gentle. Too hard, and the form would either distort as she pushed against the tension that held it together, or else break and fill the room with a suffocating and brackish cloud. She gave it a cautious hug, and then a tender kiss.

"Good morning, Grace." Nyx said.

"Morning, Ruby."

"You need clothes.”

"Shower first."

"Broken." Nyx said.

Screamer tutted. "Again? I was just getting settled in, too.” She collected an oversized shirt from the pile beside the couch. Not her usual fashion, but something to hang over her wiry frame, and wired undergarments.

“Why in the hell did we pick sharing with Crim and Win?” she asked.

"Air conditioning woman."

Never could one appreciate Winter more than in the Summer, Screamer mused. "Like a fridge in here. Have we got orange juice or?"

"OJ. Table. Sit down."

Screamer stepped past the illusion, and made her way to the kitchen table.

Nyx was there, waiting. Every detail seen in the illusion, made worse, or else exaggerated. Her skin wasn't quite scaly, but it lacked hair anywhere except her head, and her brow was high enough that with hair pulled away from the vents, she could look bald. Today, she wore a thin white sleeveless shirt, the colour of the skin underneath making it seem salmon instead.

"I made breakfast." She hissed, as softly as she could manage.

“Good morning.” Came Screamer’s reply.

“It’s night.”

Screamer had thought the sunrise looked a little off. She peeked outside again. It was retreating beyond the horizon, bit by bit, darkness encroaching rather than retreating. Ah. Sunset.

“Okay."

"M'Sister was in the news again. Catching bank robbers."

"We could rob a bank?" Screamer ventured, eyeing the plate of bacon, fat already trimmed away. She dug in.

"Makes me look like a stalker."

"This tastes good," she said between mouthfuls. "I thought we were out of bacon."

"Found some in the freezer. “ Nyx said. “Crimson picked it out."

It was unfortunate enough that Crimson's unique hunger was shared by his "Paramilitary Russian Mail Order Bride". And, while Nyx could stomach the taste, Screamer was disgusted by it. And disappointed with Hannibal Lector's lies—liver was abhorrent no matter the accompaniment.

She stared at the remaining rasher on her plate.

“Kidding.” Nyx chuckled.

Screamer and Nyx, Crimson and Winter. The two pairs shared the luxurient and excessive RV. The other couple held a monopoly on the double bed though. They were a little closer than Nyx and Screamer. The same sort of shared bond, the power combinations that tugged most capes together. Frozen Meat, Nyx had once commented. Between the yelling and the smoke, Screamer could see their Russian roommate calling them a Rock Concert in return.

She could remember Winter's initiation. The first meeting. The Nine, or eight at the time, were looking to purchase munitions, trying to stay low key. Looking for a final member, too. Jack had grown bored of the older teammates again, the team survived on new blood, much like Crimson. Then Winter had called out.

"I know who you are. I am in love."

Jack had preened at the attention, slicked his hair back, and walked towards the frosted Siberian woman...

Who had walked right past him, and towards Crimson, using her fingers to force open his lips and inspect the sharp teeth that filled out his upper and lower jaw.

Nyx drew her from her memories. "Had a dream. White place. Black woman in a coat. Pain."

"You've said before." Screamer said with a twang of pity. "Are we doing anything today?" She said, offering an easy change of subject.

"No."

"Nothing planned?" Screamer asked, standing up to grab Nyx’s hand.

"No." Nyx said. She pressed a finger against Screamer's lips. It wasn't as if she could shut her up properly, or silence her, but a gesture like this still held meaning. Screamer waited for her to continue.

"You hear that?" she asked.

Screamer listened closely. "No?" she said.

"Exactly. We're alone."

And that was all Screamer could hear. That meant no one else. This was silence. Beautifully quiet. Not one raised voice for-

"I THINK WE'RE LOST." 

"ARE YOU SURE HONEY?"

Her skin could crawl at every syllable. Screamer. Could scream. Her nails raked into the table.

"Shh. It’s ok." Nyx hissed into her ear, hands rested on her shoulders.

"Another bloody pair of hikers.” Screamer said. “Where's my axe? I'm going to scream, and chop, and-"

"Shhh."

"I STILL THINK WE SHOULD'VE TAKEN THAT RIGHT TURN A MILE BACK."

"I TOLD YOU THAT WAS WHAT THE MAP SAID."

"ARE YOU SURE?"

Right back to multitasking. Spread out. One half of her listening in on the two obnoxiously loud voices. The other, was still sat next to Nyx. Being in a city was worse. Being in a city was hell. It took working with King to realise just how much easier things were with only eight voices to deal with. Cities were hell. A buzzing chorus of a hundred tinier and tinier people. And of course, they just *had* to keep getting more crowded. Well. That was something Screamer could fix.

"I want my axe. They're so close, I could just, reach out and-"

"I'M GETTING THIRSTY!"

"I'LL SEE IF WE HAVE A WATER BOTTLE STILL."

Nyx’ black nails started to dig into Screamer's shoulder. "Day off." she said, harshly, her words accompanied by a hiss of gas.

"I NEED SOME SUNSCREEN."


	2. Bugs.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bugs. Bugs everywhere. Going to the toilet has and will never be safe.

Screamer sat like a nervous gargoyle atop the closed lid of her toilet, her eyes wide as she watched the trilobite scuttle about along the floor.   
"Nyx." she whispered, using her power rather than risking alarming the breedbug to her presence.  
"Nyx there's a bug in the bathroom."  
The bug scuttled around and about, pausing atop her discarded trousers to poke its head at a fold.  
"Nyx don’t think it’s spotted me yet."  
As if it could hear the words she was consciously avoiding broadcasting to it, the bug cocked its pointed head. Her heart threatened to burst from its chest and flatten the bug itself. Hands pressed against the corners of the room, the tiny RV bathroom shook along with her.  
The bug seemed to settle down, resuming its search through her trousers’ non-existent pockets. Instead, it started to prod and pick at the zipper of her fly, seemingly entranced by its movement.  
"Nyx." She called wordlessly.  
The bug started to crawl through her open fly, giving a little shake of its tail as the dagger snuck through.  
If she'd gotten to wash her hands, she could've at least bitten her nails or clawed at her face. She'd thought she was safe, she'd thought she'd checked everywhere, and then she'd spotted the bastard thing hidden behind the next roll of toilet paper, smiling up at her hand.  
And now she was sat here, staring down as the bug started to work the fly of her trousers back up.  
"Nyx!" Screamer screamed. The trousers on the floor stood up and noticed her. She could imagine herself slipping, crawling on the floor with that damn bug biting at her. She could feel herself tipping forwards.  
"Nyx!" she bawled. Why couldn't she hear her? Why couldn't anyone hear her.  
With a violent thunk an axe chopped its way through the plastic of the door, scant inches from the little plastic flick lock. It pulled back, and Screamer caught a glimpse of red skin. Another chop, and the little plastic lock had a fire axe's head stuck through it.   
The trousers turned towards the door, rearing to their full height in preparation for a fight.  
The door swung open, fire axe still lodged inside it, and no sooner did Screamer catch a glimpse of Nyx than Nyx brought her frying pan down on the bulging insect.  
The room fell deathly quiet, and deathly still. Screamer relaxed a little as Nyx looked up at her with her beautiful black eyes.  
"I thought-" Screamer started before a dagger punched its way out of the non-stick pan.  
"Kill it!" Screamer ended. "Kill it like a baby!"  
Another crack of the pan against the floor, and another, and another, until the wriggling and quivering dagger stopped moving about like a swatted wasp and started moving about like a swatted spider.  
Screamer sobbed a little, resisting the urge to wipe at her face.  
"Hey." Nyx said.  
"Hey." Screamer said, whimpering a little.  
"Are you okay?" Screamer whispered, quiet enough that Screamer could only hear it through her power.  
"Yeah." Screamer whispered.  
"Are you sure?"  
"No, it's just..." she stopped to take another breath. "You said you wanted a normal day."  
"It's okay," Nyx said. "It wasn't your fault."  
“Can we just,” she stopped herself.  
“Just what?” Nyx said, head tilted slightly.  
“Stick something on the VCR. Go for a walk. Hold hands.”  
Nyx’ tongue darted between her teeth in thought, picking at a stray piece of bacon.  
“Ok.” Nyx said, smoke trailing behind her as she walked away.


End file.
